


Are You My Soul, My Heart (pull everything apart)

by Juvinadelgreko



Series: the Aftermath [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Baking, F/M, Fluff, anniversary fic, chef queen, pure fluff like a baby chicken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juvinadelgreko/pseuds/Juvinadelgreko
Summary: Oliver and Felicity celebrate their anniversary with the relaxing, happy day they deserve.





	Are You My Soul, My Heart (pull everything apart)

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this. If you want all the feels, listen to “Shark” by Oh Wonder while reading this. Enjoy!

_Morning, 4587_

“Beautiful da—“

Warm. He was _warm_. And it was a beautiful day. It was Oliver Queen’s first wedding anniversary. He rolls his bruised, slowly recovering body over, jostling his wife’s head from where it had rested between his shoulder blades. But she’s already crawling to consciousness, too. He watches her stretch in the glow of the morning that streams through the windows of the loft, and when she settles, she smiles at him.

“Happy anniversary, love.” Felicity’s voice is scratchy from sleep, and her hair is a rat’s nest, but she’s gorgeous.

“Happy Anniversary.”

He ignores the lingering stiffness in his muscles as he slides his body overtop of hers.

——

If being sappy and overly affectionate on one’s anniversary was a crime, then Oliver would’ve been back in prison, and Felicity with him. They spend the first four hours of the day guiltlessly in bed, alternating back and forth between making love and making conversation. Their conversations contain a sorely missed levity akin to that of their first summer together, and Oliver credits the conversation they’d had the previous night with relieving their hearts and minds of the substantial emotional burden they’d both carried through his incarceration.

She’d wanted to wait. Hadn’t wanted to tear into the painful abyss of the last seven months just yet. _But he’d pleaded with her, begged her, to please, please, just get it over with. Get it over with because I can’t stand this gaping canyon between us after seven months without you._

He’d had a point, and so, reluctantly, they’d had what Oliver had nicknamed in his head The Conversation. He’d tormented himself with the idea of what he’d say to her about his choices to a worse degree than any beating or injection could. It had been exactly as he’d thought it would. They weren’t necessarily an ugly-fighting couple, but by no means were they faint-hearted.

_This is why we broke off our first engagement. Marriage is about inclusion, Oliver. We’ve had this conversation before. And while I understand why it’s hard for you to come to me with certain things, I need you, need you, to understand that there is nothing you can’t come to me with. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. I signed up for all of you. Not some of you, and that’s why I need you to include me in all of you, especially when you plan on tearing holes in life as we know it! I want to be the best partner I can be to you, but I can’t do that unless you’ll let me! You know better than anyone, there’s always another way. We could’ve avoided months and months of excruciating pain if you’d just talked to me first. I can’t stomach the idea of you walking around making choices that so fundamentally affect my life without consulting me on them. When you walked out the door to see Watson I had no idea where you might be going. I like Hell would I have let you step one foot outside had I know what you were up to._

_You are the best partner I could ask for. And I’m sorry, Felicity, God, I’m so sorry. I knew my mistake the second I made it. But once again, fear and doubt blinded me. I thought I was backed into a corner. I panicked. My first instinct will always be to protect my family. In my panic, I doubted myself, doubted you. I saw myself as expendable, but I didn’t think about the fact that you probably wouldn’t agree with that statement. And you’re the most important thing to me, you and William. In my fear, I forgot about you and your love. I unwittingly preyed on yours and William’s worst fear—abandonment. I doubted you, though you’ve never given me a reason to, and I doubted myself. And for that I am truly sorry. That’s not the partner or father I want to be. And I will try with everything I have to keep it from happening again._

_Don’t try Oliver. Promise me._

_I promise._

“I promise.”

“You promise?”

“I promise I’m not looking.”

“Give me your hand.”

He doesn’t need to ask which one she wants. He extends his left hand to her, savoring the feeling of her warm fingers curling around his. He feels the brush of something cool against the tip of his ring finger, and can’t stop his lips from quirking up. She’d found it. He opens his eyes. The slim, elegant band of burnished gold settles home on his hand, and the last piece of his soul that had gone missing in Slabside was back in place. On behalf of exhaustion, Oliver had consigned himself to leaving his personal effects behind in the wreckage of Slabside, tossed the heartbreak of losing his wedding band into the growing black hole of devastation he’d walked out of prison with. It makes having it back on his hand now even more glorious. But he has to ask.

“What kind of scathing phone call did this one take?”

Felicity chuckles and kisses his knuckles.

“They were surprisingly compliant.”

“Smart of them.”

“Yeah, well, it was something along the lines of, ‘you barely managed to return my husband to me in one piece—oh wait—you didn’t. You still have his wedding band. He and I will both be wanting that back.’ And then they paid for express shipping.”

“Brilliant.” His eyes are glowing.

——

“Don’t normal couples, like...I don’t know...go somewhere fancy on their anniversary?”

“Sure, but I don’t think we’ve ever fit in with the normal crowd.”

“Unless it’s normal to watch hours of British cooking competitions on your anniversary.”

“I don’t think I care,” he grumbled.

She loves watching cooking shows with Oliver, if only because she loves watching him watch them. He gets what Felicity calls his “inspired face,” because it’s just that: that look that says _hmm...I could do that. I could do that for dinner, and William would love it. I could make those cupcakes for Felicity’s birthday and she’d thank me with lots of kisses._

She loves his inspired face. Her phone buzzes on the coffee table, and she pauses the episode they’re in the middle of to answer it. It’s William. He was still in England, but they’d called him the night Oliver had gotten home, and made plans to bring him home around Christmas. She puts the phone on speaker and holds it out so they both can talk.

“Hey Will!”

“Hi William!”

“Happy anniversary!”

“Thanks, buddy,” they say together.

“You excited to come home?” Oliver asks.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as Oliver would’ve thought.

“I’m excited for you to come home.”

“Me too.”

“It’s late here...I’m going to get back to work.” William says.

“Ok, we’ll see you soon.”

They disconnect the call and turn to look at each other.

“He was off.”

“Oh, he was totally off.” Felicity says. “But come on. He’s a teenager. He’s going to have off days. He didn’t sound distressed. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“So we have a moody teenager now, that’s what you’re telling me? Good-bye, brown hair.”

“No, I just think...I think he’s had a lot of downtime in Cambridge that he’s not used to having. He finally has time to figure out who he is after years of change. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sounds a little funny.”

It’s moments like this one where he feels the seven-month gap more prominently than any others. But it’s Felicity that finally breaks the tension.

“You know, I’m feeling inspired.”

“Hm?”

“I want to make brownies.”

“You mean you want me to make my brownies and lick the bowl when I’m done.”

“...yeah.”

“You know I can’t tell you no.”

“Get up, you, I know there’s a box of mix in the pantry.”

——

One of the biggest running gags of Oliver and Felicity’s relationship, dating all the way back to Ivy Town, was the secret of Oliver’s brownies. They were a guaranteed hit at any party anytime anywhere, and people absolutely fawned over them, throwing themselves at his feet for the recipe. But whenever they asked, all her husband would say was:

“It’s a secret.”

And she would laugh every time. Because Oliver’s “secret” was Betty Crocker box mix. But she would never tell anyone that. Because it’s a secret. Duh.

When she’d heard that the great Chef Oliver Queen made his famous brownies with box mix, her jaw had hit the floor.

“Box mix?” She’d gasped. “The great Chef Queen uses box mix in his brownies?”

“He does indeed.” He’d smirked.

“Ok, well, that’s only acceptable if I get to lick the bowl when Chef Queen is done with it.”

“Chef Queen doesn’t want his loyal patrons to get salmonella.”

“This loyal patron grew up on raw brownie batter. She doesn’t care.” It was true. Brownies had been a special treat of hers and Donna’s growing up.

She’d won that battle. But box mix aside, Oliver did actually have a brownie making secret. When he made his box brownies, he left one egg out of the mix, resulting in a wonderfully light and cakey brownie everyone loved. 

Felicity helps him gather ingredients on their counter, and takes up her usual perch on a stool on one side of their island. She helps with the most harmless tasks, like preheating the oven, dumping the chocolate powdering into the mixing bowl, measuring out the vegetable oil. He is the cracker of the eggs and mixer of the batter. Watching Oliver mix brownie batter is perhaps a close second to watching him on the salmon ladder. He’s flexing his arms and holding chocolate. There are worse things she could be watching. He carefully empties the batter into a pain and sticks them into bake. Soon, the loft is filled with the delicious smell of warming chocolate, and she’s licking the batter bowl clean while he cleans up their mess. She takes her time, making sure to get every inch of the bowl and the spatula. Felicity places them in the dishwasher when she’s done and turns to face her husband. Oliver’s brows furrow.

“What?”

He sighs.

“You have chocolate all over your beautiful face.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah...guess I’ll just have to...” he presses a kiss to her cheek, “kiss it off you.”

“Oh darn. Well, I supposed you’d better get going then, Mr. Queen.”

And oh boy, does he. He plants wet, playful kisses over her cheeks and chin, savoring the taste of Felicity mixed with chocolate and her quiet laugh at his eagerness. When he watches her wipe the rest from her face with a wet cloth, he can’t help but wonder how, 72 hours earlier, he’d been fighting for his life in a prison riot. He doesn’t want to think about it.

All he wants to think about is the future, particularly the brownies that need to come out of the oven and be eaten.

**Author's Note:**

> The brownie stuff is all true ;) 
> 
> Tumblr: juvinadelgreko


End file.
